


Immunity

by IAmNotLost



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Injuries, and i don't know where it went it just sort of spiraled out of control, and my fingers did what they wanted, but everything's healable, this is kind of short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotLost/pseuds/IAmNotLost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I really thought we were over the whole ‘shoving Stiles into walls’ thing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immunity

**Author's Note:**

> Short Sterek fic! I don't know where I was going with this. Really.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not at all. It wasn’t supposed to end with Stiles on the floor, bloodied and still and silent. Derek can feel the exact moment when the whole pack freezes—just stops what they’re doing to look over, because the dull thud of a body hitting the floor shouldn’t be coming from _their_ human. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and if Derek could read the minds of the stupid, stupid hunters, he’d be able to tell that they were probably regretting the decision of knocking out the only boy who hadn’t turned into a werewolf yet. Derek didn’t need to read minds, though. He could see it on their faces.

Scott lets out an ugly, terrifying sort of sound that could one day, maybe, rival Derek’s. Derek, who doesn’t make his pack hold back anymore, and if one of the out of town hunters ends up with a broken neck, that’s not his problem. Self defense and safety has to happen now. If they broke _their_ human, they were going to have to pay.

One of the hunters managed to get away, but the other three were flung around until they were lifeless, now just heaps of limbs on the floor. Scott’s panting heavily, eyes darting from Stiles to Derek, who gives the okay. The threat’s gone. 

“Jackson. Get a car.” Jackson nods, still wolfed out, and leaps outside. Isaac and Scott have taken a place on the sides of Stiles, checking for a pulse by pressing to his neck, checking for breathing by resting a palm on his sternum. Things they could all hear because of their heightened senses, but no one brought that up. Feeling was comforting.

“Breathing’s normal. He’s alive. His arm is broken, though.” Scott nods over to Derek, and they’re all relieved—really, really relieved, because Stiles is _pack,_ Stiles is part of this messed up, put together little family, and a lot of the times Stiles was the glue.

Derek’s been keeping himself in check, staying away until the last minute because he was afraid he’d lose it if he got closer. He was afraid he might do something irrational, like press his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck and say ‘sorry’ over and over again. Derek should have been watching. Derek was supposed to make sure things like this never happened.

Derek was supposed to make sure there was never a split second where he heard Stiles’ heart stop. 

That deafening sound was going to plague his dreams for weeks. 

By the time Jackson comes back, Derek’s mostly regained his composure, because Stiles is alive and okay, except for a broken arm and some scratches. Which isn’t really okay, but Derek had been thinking something a lot more horrible. Isaac and Scott back up as he moves toward Stiles, watching the way his eyelashes fan out over his cheeks, and the way his chest moves while he breathes. Derek carefully scoops the thin boy into his arms, mindful of the broken arm as they leave the now-abandoned warehouse and head for the hospital.

Stiles is up and running a few days later, the same as ever except for a little limp and a cast that’ll both go away in time. 

“Dude. Why is everyone nicer to me?” It’s a Sunday night, right after a pack meeting, and Stiles is still lounging on that new stupid couch they all made Derek buy, even though everyone else already left. “It’s really creepy! Seriously. Jackson _rubbed my head,_ Scott actually asked me to hang out for once, and Isaac keeps doing that freaky thing where he sucks in my pain. I mean, really, what the hell?”

“You’re pack.” Derek grumbles, as if that explains everything. When Stiles just keeps looking at him with a blank stare and parts his stupid lips, Derek sighs. “You’re part of the pack, Stiles. When someone from the pack gets…hurt, the others want to take care of them until they’re better. They just want to make sure you’re okay. They…value you.”

It’s really the only way Derek can put it. Stiles is a valuable member of the pack. Stiles brings brain, and creativity, and heart. Derek knows that for a fact, because once Stiles manages to weasel his way into your life, he tends to leave a mark.

“Oh.” Stiles blinks, and for once, Derek can see him thinking something over. He hears Stiles’ heartbeat pick up, but only a little.

“Why aren’t you doing it, then? Is it some sort of Alpha immutability, or something, like, you don’t feel the need to take care of—Derek?”

But Derek’s not really having any of it, and he’s closing the distance between the two of them rather quickly, pushing him against the wall of the living room. It’s not as forceful as it used to be.

“I really thought we were over the whole ‘shoving Stiles into walls’ thing.” Stiles mumbles, and his heartbeat was already beating faster, but now it’s even double that speed, and Derek can’t really lead himself to believing that it’s completely from fear.

“Shut up.” Derek ends up grumbling after a few moments, head moving to Stiles’ shoulder. He can hear the boy say something about not ripping his throat out, but Derek ignores nearly everything at this point, and presses his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck, just like he wanted to do on the day Stiles got hurt.

“I’ll just…not talk.” 

“I'll alert the media, possibly form a parade.” Derek quips dryly, lips moving against the soft skin that connects Stiles’ neck to his shoulder, and Derek can feel the way Stiles’ shudders. His hands come to rest at the boy’s waist, and he sighs, content. Well, as content as he can get, because it's not like he has any _real_ reasons for this, minus his own selfish ones. 

“Did you just make a joke? I think you made a joke. Hey all you people. Hey all you people. Hey all you people won’t you listen to—”

“Stiles. What are you doing?” 

“I was just going to inform the people that you sometimes can make a funny.”

“What _people,_ Stiles?”

“No, not actu—You don’t _understand._ ”

There’s a pause, and Stiles sighs as if Derek’s the stupid one. Derek just noses at Stiles’ jaw, and he’s maybe scenting a little, but—whatever. Derek can do whatever he wants. Sort of.

“There’s no immunity, Stiles. I want to…” Derek hesitates, because vulnerabilities and feelings are what gave him the hole in his chest, instead of a heart. Even though everyone knows that's not true. The reason it hurts so much is because of his stupid heart. “I want to take care of you, too.”

Stiles is quieter than usual for a moment, and Derek thinks this just went horribly wrong, but then there’s Stiles’ good arm wrapping around his shoulders, and Derek looks up to find a private little grin on the boy’s face.

“Okay.” And it’s a soft word, different than usual, but Stiles’ eyes look warm and happy, and his fingers are curling in the fabric of Derek’s shirt, and maybe it wouldn’t end too badly after all. 

Stiles’ eyes look even better when they’re fluttering shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Honestly. I keep going back and changing things LOL. I wish I would have had a set idea for how I wanted this to go. I need prompts. UGH.


End file.
